


Brick and Mortar

by orphan_account



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M, Season 0, Self-Discovery, Slow Burn, eyyy, post death t, semi canon compliance, which is a double entendre in this instance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-13 15:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21161552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Being a teenager is all about self-discovery. Self-discovery usually doesn’t involve a completely (questionably) separate person living inside your body, but… everyone’s journey is different, right?Possibly not that different, but different.





	1. Friends

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by Partners of the Heart, a fanfiction that is no longer posted online. If you’re nostalgic (and stubborn), you can dig it up via the Wayback Machine.
> 
> Please keep in mind that this is my first venture into this fandom in ten odd years- I don’t have the time or energy to recapture the intimate canon knowledge I had back then, so expect some downplay of the storyline, in addition to some direct deviation. 
> 
> I'd like to thank A03 for the lack of disclaimer required.

* * *

**Once the soul awakens, the search begins and you can never go back.**

**-Anam Cara**

* * *

Self-discovery is a normal aspect of anyone's teenage years. It was something your psychology teacher liked to enthusiastically remind you all about, whenever the chance struck- though thankfully, she’d thus far refrained from making it a daily event. You and your peers are at the most critical juncture of moral development. In the following years, the discrepancies between each of you, as  _ true individuals,  _ would make themselves known. No longer could you huddle, sheep beneath the authoritative perspectives of right and wrong. Social hierarchies would collapse beneath newly discovered personal opinions and disagreements, life would change.

You would change.

At least, that’s what miss Arika liked to say, on a near-weekly basis. For you, it was one more theory introduced alongside every point of criticism against it, criticisms that were then ignored in favor of treating theory as fact. Maybe you’d appreciate Kohlberg more as a morally strong adult, but right now? He was one more fascinating, barely understood concept in a class of somewhat average grades.

It might’ve been nice to know a little more, round about now.

The thrill of being alive wears off once you get to the hospital. Sugoroku- grandpa, he’s okay, but just. There’s issues there, for an old man like him. He’s hearty and stable, but tires quickly. You barely get a minute with him before he’s asleep, deck loosely clasped in a hand on his pillow. He won’t be out for several days. There might be another surgery in the near future. Hearts are tricky like that.

The doctors allow you to sit in with your mother as they go over his current care plan and the complications that could arise. Try as you might, a lot of what needs to be done flies right over your head. The doctors aren’t speaking to you, and it’s not your place to ask questions- that’s for mom to sort out, shooing you away with a weary smile and a handful of crisp notes. Dinner. You can eat out, tonight. Treat yourself.

“Good thing, too!” Was all Jou had to say about it. He stuck around as the hour grew later and the others slowly excused themselves, before worried parents and an impending school day could cause them trouble. You know you don’t have to go; mom’s already let you off the hook, and Jou’s just-

He doesn’t explain why he doesn’t have to make any calls. You don’t ask. If he’s not going to school tomorrow, that’s his choice, and his alone. Maybe one day you’ll talk about why you know that, but if he never brings it up, that’s okay too. 

It’s his secret, not yours.

“I’m starvin’. Your mom’s the best.”

“She would’ve covered all of us if Anzu and Honda had stayed, you know.” You point out, smile edging towards exhaustion. Crossing your arms over the surface of the table, it’s a miracle you even remember what you ordered- forget how you got here. Trust Jou to know every side street in town. “Hanasaki told me she paid for his cab home.”

“Yuug’, I’m gonna eat like a horse. If your ma’s gonna pay for that, she’s the best. No ifs or buts about it.” He’s already rubbing his hands together in anticipation, full of seemingly unending energy that pulls a chuckle from you. He would’ve stayed without the promise of food, you know that- but you’re glad you can thank him, somehow. In a way that isn’t going to potentially kill you both.

He was only a few minutes away from needing the hospital himself, last night.

“How are you feeling, Jou? After...you know.” You wave your hand at the table, mimicking the spin of a wheel. He makes a face.

“Like I’m not gonna eat eggs for the next fifty years. I’m alright.” He pauses, shaking his head. “Didn’t even think about it until you asked. Once Kaiba- yeah. Head’s been on other stuff.”

“Right..” To be fair, so had yours. Trying to survive, your grandfather, Honda… 

It had been a- day. And yet somehow, it wasn’t exactly the worst of days. Just another in a long string of days that were only just now making sense.

You finally knew exactly what had happened in them, after all. Everything that had happened in them. Which shouldn’t be new, but it is. You  _ know what happened.  _ It’s not exciting. It’s not even as terrifying as you’d been building it up to be. It’s just-

New. You’re not sure what to make of it, yet.

“Forget me, how’re  _ you _ feeling? I’m not the one Kaiba was gunning for.”  _ Literally,  _ you almost hear him add, but the conversation pauses as the waitress appears with your food. For a few minutes, the only sound is the shuffling of plates and hasty slurps of a well-deserved meal. Man Jou must’ve been starving, if you’re demolishing everything so quickly.

You both hadn’t eaten since last night.

“I’m not sure.” You admit eventually. It’s difficult to shape the words around yet another mouthful of food, but you manage it. “So much happened, and grandpa isn’t exactly out of the woods yet. Kaiba’s- probably not going to be a problem now, I guess. That’s good.”

“But…” Jou encourages, the word barely decipherable around the mostly unidentifiable mush in his mouth. 

“But- now I guess I’m trying to figure things out.” Your stomach feels comfortably full, for the moment. Placing the chopsticks down, you eye off the half-finished spread before the two of you, wondering if you should chance having more. Maybe if you give it time to settle, first? “There’s so many things I couldn’t remember before- now I do. They’re not good things, Jou. Some of them are terrible. I should be horrified, or angry, but I don’t know if I’m just- not, or if I just haven’t thought about it enough.”

“Kaiba’s not the first one you’ve hurt like that, huh.” The slightest shift in his tone and Jou might’ve been asking a question. He’s not. 

“No.” You say, even if the answer isn’t required. Your best friend pauses, mouth half-open as he stares off into the distance- and then he shrugs.

“I’ve done a lot of stuff I ain’t proud of too, you know. It says somethin’, that you never- you know. Hurt anyone till they hurt you first.” He takes a few more bites in quick succession, rice spraying over the table as he continues. “Or us.”

“Yeah...he didn’t.” Jou pauses again, but nods. One word, and he’s already accepting the distinction. 

This is why having friends is...nice.

“He didn’t. So he’s a bit- uh,  _ extreme _ , when stuff happens. You- sorry, he has a good reason for it. If I could do that, a few gangsters ain’t the only people I’d be going after. Maybe he’s okay.”

You. He. Jou stumbles, and it’s fair- you’re stumbling too. Is he in there, watching you fumble? Does he know? Maybe. He seems a lot more aware of you than you are of him.

Or maybe he isn’t, and you’ve just been lucky about when he decides to wake up. You grimace, leaning back into your chair. Things were a lot easier a few months ago.

Lonelier, too.

“Hey, who cares what I think?” Jou laughs, jostling your shoulder like, hours ago, you weren’t at the brink of tears as you stumbled over just how much his opinion meant. “What are you thinkin’?  _ Jou, I think I’m becoming someone else-  _ cool. We got that part down. What’s next?”

“I- don’t know.” You frown, staring down at the table. You don’t- and in a way, Jou’s already nailed it on the head. You think you’re becoming someone else, or, you did. Now, it’s more complicated, which is kind of nice. You’re not losing who you are right now, you think. You hope? But then- “I don’t know who he is, Jou. Is he really me? Maybe- when I completed my puzzle, I wished for friends-”

“Right, but then the box said somethin’ bout… uh.” His entire face screws up, attempting to recall a conversation you only vaguely remember having with him, yourself. “The winner gets the power of evil.”

“Darkness.” You correct. There's a distinction, there, one you'd very much like to keep. “I dunno, I thought it was just going to grant a wish. But maybe he’s- my shadow?”

“What, like, your dark side?” Jou snorts. “Listen, man, if you got Darth Vader in your head, now’s as good a time to spill as any.”

“Jou!” Giggles bubbling in your throat, you shove him away, sending him out of his seat and sprawling on the ground. It’s his fault for not sitting properly, but it’s more than enough reason for you to be politely expelled out onto the streets, a little of your own money going to a large, apologetic tip.

You don’t have a watch on you, but it’s not hard to guess that it’s well past midnight at this point. You would’ve hailed a cab if you were on your own, but Jou starts walking, and you follow. And it’s- nice. The glow of Domino City comes with little human activity- in one alleyway, you hear the nearby sounds of a street cleaner, whilst a usually busy set of traffic lights has all of five cars stopped, waiting for the lights to change. It’s the most amount of vehicles you see together, the entire walk. There are still people around, but very few pass close by, drifting off into the night. Disappearing into adventures all their own.

The only constants are the scuff of your shoes on the pavement and a murmur of conversation between you and Jou. It’s the first time you’ve been out on the streets so late, never having had reason to wander all that far from home, but it has a distinctly different feeling than daylight hours. Like you’ve stepped out into a new world- familiar and unknown, all in one. A little fascinating, a little exciting. A little dangerous. Your fingers run across the puzzle thoughtfully.

Strange, how much it reminds you of him.

Jou dances from topic to topic the entire way, never sticking to one thing for too long. You wonder about Kaiba, and his little brother. Mokuba surely isn’t old enough to run the company without him, right? You hope he has someone to help out. Jou hopes he’s left to squirm about on his own for a little bit, laughing away your flustered ire - caving to your accusing stare, eventually. He was joking, he says. Mostly.

You talk about your grandpa. About the game shop, and how the two of you can help out around classes. He waves you off when you volunteer to ask mom about giving him part-time wages, but you file it away as a topic to approach, anyway. He hasn’t been working lately, but you know the majority of his pay would go where it was needed. His stomach, partially. 

He asks you about that video he lent you, too. Your cheeks are bright red, you know, but you tell him you’ll return it tomorrow. His wink says a lot of things; that he’s expecting you to watch it tonight, or revisit your favorite parts. In truth, you just don’t want to think about it at all. You haven’t had the chance to watch it, actually. Haven’t had an evening to yourself.

Right now, you’re not sure if you’ll ever have an evening to yourself... or ever have, and the idea of- sorting out something like that is beyond mortifying.

As the game shop comes into view, the two of you slow down, an already ambling pace nearing outright stopping in place. Mom’s not home yet, which is expected; she’s probably staying with grandpa for the night, just in case there are complications. You sample the idea of asking Jou to crash on a futon in your room, but you know he probably won’t. Even if the only family he’s got waiting at home is unpleasant, Jou’s a loyal guy. 

He’ll go home and put his dad to bed, before hitting the sack himself.

“Hey Jou? Earlier, when I told you about him, do you remember what else I said?”

“Uhh, you know- not really.” He rubs the back of his neck, grin apologetic. “It’s been a day, pal. We’ve all said a lotta stuff. Tell me again?”

You pat his arm, forgiveness not even required, but given freely. After today, you’d be crazy not to understand.

“I said I didn’t know him. And it’s true.” You both come to a stop, Jou watching as you fish out your keys and fumble to get the door unlocked. It should be ingrained into your soul, by this point, but getting the key to fit is so much harder in the dark. “I don’t know him at all. Do you think- I don’t think I want to judge him without knowing him, first.” 

“Figured you wouldn’t.” And he doesn’t seem angry about that all, smile knowing and almost amused as he reaches over to ruffle your hair, sniggering when you immediately move to swat his hands away. It’s funny to him, of course- he doesn’t have to tame it. “You know what? If you’d told me this when we first became friends, I would’ve told ya to toss that gold rock into the deepest hole you could find. But you took a chance with me, and Honda, and- well, maybe Kaiba wasn’t the best chance you ever gave out, but he helped you handle that, right?”

“Right.” You exhale, relieved beyond words. If Jou didn’t blink before supporting you, Anzu wouldn’t either. And- if you got the guts to talk to Honda about it, he’d probably follow Jou’s example, too.

You didn’t have to keep a secret to keep them. They’d support you in this, even if it was as wild and crazy as the last three months had been.

“Besides…” Jou loses the smile on his face, squinting up at the sign above the front door. He’d loved it when you told him the reason for its name, a secret never before revealed beyond the scope of your family. “I- meant it, yanno? About him being a bigger person than me. Gimme those powers of darkness, today, and Kaiba wouldn’t be in a hospital bed, right now. He’d be in a morgue.”

“Jou…” 

“Forget it.” He waves a hand at you before you even have time to process what to say, smile back, but tight. “I’ll come by tomorrow afternoon so we can figure out how to help your gramps, alright? Just- don’t expect me too early. After schools out, me and Honda… we’re gonna hang for a bit.”

“Take all the time you need.” Honda. He’d been embarrassed when Yuugi had insisted on a hug before he left the hospital, but he bore with it anyway. Gramps wasn’t the only one they almost lost today. Hanging out, being normal? Honda probably needed that as much as Jou did.

Admittedly, it wasn’t something you’d been good at providing, lately.

“Yeah.” Jou clears his throat, suddenly awkward. Always there to reassure you- still less than confident in displaying his own emotions and needs. You bite back a smile of your own as you finally wrench the door open, wincing as the bell above the door clangs. If your mom heard how late you got back because of a grouchy neighbor, you’d never hear the end of it.

“See you tomorrow, Jou.”

“Seeya. Oh, and hey, Yuugi. When you make friends with that guy, do me a favor, yeah?” His discomfort is cast away as Jou straightens, aiming a smile down at you. “You tell him; any friend of Yuugi is a friend’a me.” 

He makes sure you’re inside before he leaves, waving over his shoulder as he goes. As you head to the stairs out back and up to your bedroom, the smile on your face couldn’t get any bigger.

Having friends isn’t just nice.

It’s the best.


	2. Dots and Boxes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Errors. Errors everywhere. Some very minor tweaks occurred to the first chapter due to them- if any ever occur that are important enough to require looking back at them, I’ll let y’all know. Do keep in mind most updates won't be this fast; insomnia demanded some occupation, and this is it.
> 
> As a note, I don’t have a beta and likely won’t for the foreseeable future, so I apologize for mistakes! When I meet someone as dedicated to editing as I am to not sleeping, I’ll be set.

* * *

**You talk as if you have no audience but the glittering stars, far overhead.**

**-Banana Yoshimoto**

* * *

The moment your head hits the pillow, you’re sure you’ll drift right off- but sleep doesn’t come. There’s plenty of reasons for that, though. You just ate. The walk left your legs comfortably sore, but the rest of your body was full of energy. Grandpa. Honda. Everything else. After today, who wouldn’t be a little wound up? After an hour of tossing and turning, it seems pointless to keep trying.

There’s some homework laying about that you’d partially finished or...hadn’t started, which seems a decent way to pass the time. But then your room feels stifling, too full and too empty, all at once. You try to put your finger on it, but the answer doesn’t come so much as an excuse; you don’t want to be productive in the space you have to relax in. Kitchen table it is.

Except the kitchen is in disarray when your toes touch cold laminate, dishes piled high in the sink and a half-cooked dish on the stove, remnants of the dinner you  _ would  _ have had, if the past few days had been a tiny bit simpler. The idea of your mom coming home tomorrow to this mess twists your gut with guilt- school books get abandoned as you shuffle through the process of cleaning up. Toss the radio on (the volume is set pretty low, yet you still worry about annoying the neighbors), avoid looking at the sink, organize the dirty dishes to the side, scrape the food into the bin.

Spend five minutes staring into the stagnant, dirty water the kitchen sink is filled with before reluctantly sticking your hand into it, fishing out the plug with a shudder. It’s just leftover food- leftover food from your family and  _ yourself _ , but it’s been there all day, germinating, filming over at the top with grease and whatever washing detergent has in it that makes it all bubbly. Your mom is a stickler about leaving things stacked up in the sink. Finally, you get why.

Sticking your hands in clean, warm water straight afterward helps. Exhaling out your nose, you settle into the rhythm of monotony, smooth jazz trickling through the air from your mother’s favorite station with only the clink of china tapping against the bottom of the sink to accompany it. 

You don’t do them all that often, chores usually regulated to helping your grandpa around the shop, but doing the dishes is soothing. You should opt to help out with them more often.

“If you were me, would you?” The words bubble over thoughtlessly, absent chatter with someone who might not even be aware of them. “Help with the dishes, I mean. Not that there’s anything wrong if you don’t like the dishes. Me? I don’t like mopping.”

The mop handle is taller than you are. It’s unwieldy. Which is precisely why grandpa loves regulating that chore to you so often, you think. 

“Then again, I don’t think I can see you doing housekeeping stuff.” You stack another plate onto the drying rack, wet thumb tapping against your chin. “It’s not very challenging. You’re more… I mean…”

Your lips work without sound for a while, the honest words trapped in your throat. Violent? Punishing? 

Cruel?

“Competitive.” You conclude. Ducking your head down, you focus back on your task.

Is that how you feel about it? The string of punishments seems endless. You don't think the things he's doing are escalating. They’re all bad, in their own way. The ones that make the most sense, you think, are the ones where people are punished in the exact manner they’d intended to hurt someone else. Like loud noises.

And scorpions.

Not every punishment led to death- hey, there were even some instances that didn’t lead to punishments at all! Not from him. He’d left the bomber for the police to handle. He’d even saved Mokuba from the nightmare machine, and that little boy definitely wasn’t someone Yuugi considered a friend. So there were deviations to consider, too.

Was that worth considering when you weighed it up against all the people who were hurt?

“Those who trespass in my soul.” Your fringe keeps tickling your nose- after blowing it out the way several times, you cave to the urge to wet it back. Whatever. If you’re not going to school, who’s going to know? 

“Those who trespass in my soul- that’s theory one, I think. My soul. Which means we’re the same person, right?” It feels somewhat ridiculous to say that out loud to- potentially yourself, but here you are. Jazz continues playing in the background. The house and the world outside of it remain just a little too quiet. “It kind of made more sense to me before, though.”

Dishes done, you leave the sink to empty of its now lukewarm spoils, concentrating on the counters, next. You never could figure out how so many little coffee stains could get everywhere, but they can, so they do. Little grains of sugar hide in tiny nooks behind the kettle; you have to prop yourself up on the counter to get at them. 

“The box said- something about knowledge and power, so the second option could be sort of like that. You’re me, except with all those dark powers blended in. Like a- actually, scratch that thought.”

Are you…  _ a father _ ? At close to (past?) 3 am, the thought is as funny as it is embarrassing. If he’s listening, you don’t want to discuss- that. Does it even count as a theory all of its own, or is it more of a theory one point five?

Working between having an entirely different personality and  _ birthing  _ an entirely different personality seems a little too much like shoving yourself between a rock and a hard place.

“You know what I think?” You say out loud, pushing back onto your heels. The wet cloth goes sailing through the air, landing in the sink- it can be dealt with later. “I think you’re just as confused about this as I am. And if that’s right, then we might never know for sure.”

There’s no sudden agreement to what you’re saying- no flashing lights or brilliant sparkle to the puzzle sitting against your chest. If you’re right, if you’re wrong… you won’t ever know, will you? Through you, he can take action. He can interact with the outside world.

Through you, not with you.

You never actually open your schoolbooks, even if you make a show of sitting at the table with them. Fingers idly tracing over the edges of the puzzle, you watch the world outside the kitchen window- dark and seemingly unchanging. 

It’s fitting, isn’t it? You can see how dark it is outside; you know it’s there, but all you’re seeing is a few meters of the space outside of your house. The brick wall of the neighbors, a tiny snatch of the street beyond. The experience is wholly different from your walk a few hours ago, when the very atmosphere wrapped you in a tight blanket of relatively cool breeze and the scuffing of your shoes on the ground.

Being out so late was a new experience, one that came without deciding it should. It was all just chance. This other person- whether he was just a different point of yourself, or something entirely different- he was the nighttime, filling a dark space you could only snatch a glimpse of.

Maybe chance would let you see more, but you couldn’t force it to happen.

“I think I should talk to you more often, other me.” You whisper. Sluggishly making your way to your room, you let yourself sprawl out on the bed. Surely,  _ surely _ , you’re more tired than you’ve ever been before. If you close your eyes, sleep will grab you. You just have to let it. “Until we’ve got all of this figured out. What you are… all the other stuff. I don’t know how I feel about you, but I will. Just give me a chance to know you.”

You made a wish. One for friends. Friends you could count on, who could count on you.

In those drowsy moments, before thoughts become too muddled to remember, you wonder if the puzzle granted that wish before you’d even realized it.

* * *

Leaving the shop closed for a day wouldn’t hurt, but you open it for a few hours anyway, even if you’re pretty late to get up. It’s a shame that you missed the morning; kids dragging their feet on the way to school could often be relied on to buy booster packs and portable devices, but you could always count on catching a few this afternoon. Shuffling about the space, you take note of the few things to be done; the sweeping is a daily event, mopping could wait till tomorrow, a few shelves could be restocked… it’s not that much, but you know how quickly all those little things would add up. 

“A couple of hours a day stops us from having to waste a whole day next week,” You say to him, frowning as you peer into the disarray of the stock room. “Or it would, if someone stopped leaving all these boxes on the floor.”

Finding the games you need, you leave everything else where it is, locking the door behind you. That was several hours you weren’t prepared to face yet. Tomorrow, when your friends were free to help out for the weekend. You could start trekking through your grandpa’s disaster zone together.

It’s a good plan, one that’s immediately thrown out the window when, half an hour later, you’ve done as much as you can in the front of the store...except mop. Well over an hour before school ends. Dismayed and quick to boredom, you eye off the various games about the shop. Surely there was something you hadn’t played already; something you could entertain yourself with for the next ninety minutes.

Nothing new catches your eye, aside from antiquated pieces that were worth more than your scalp if you played with one unsupervised. Sighing, you get to work, only a little grudgingly. It’s not so bad when you have company. 

Kind of.

“I’m trying to think of all the things I know about you for sure, other me. Things we share? Like games. I think your choice is- different than mine, sometimes-” A heavy understatement, but you’re not searching the darkest reaches of your soul and cleaning at the same time. “-but we both like playing them, which is great! Maybe we could start our own game, next time you take over? Something we can carry with us… tic tac toe, or hangman. Dots and boxes? They might take a while, but I don’t mind!”

Really, you don’t. The thought’s pretty exciting, actually! If you stuck with easier things, in the beginning, you could easily move into games of a more long term nature. A chess match that took two years to complete. Checkers might take longer. Could you play battleships against yourself? You might have to tweak it a little, just so neither of you accidentally see your opponent’s ships.

You could leave each other notes, too. Talk things out, even if it was slow. Learn about each other. Become friends. 

The thought has a smile on your face, humming the tune to one of those jazz songs you’d heard playing last night. Most of your effort goes to stacking boxes on the table and moving anything else up off the ground- the rubbish bag swells, as does the small box you’ve set aside for recycling. Plastic cases of figurines and ripped up backings from old promotional stands have found their way everywhere, from an almost neat pile resting against the window sill to little scraps beneath the shelves. The majority of your time is spent flat on your stomach, blindly groping beneath the bulky metal structures for anything that doesn’t belong there.

Unsurprisingly, quite a lot. With little bits of cardboard comes booster packs of games you barely remember, a mini figurine with a crooked sword, and more than a few dice. It’s not fun- if anything, you’d be happy to trade-off for the mopping now, but you’re almost done here. Shoulder pressed up against the bottom shelf, you grasp for anything stuck in the corners, surprised when your fingers hit some kind of metal.

Even more surprised when it moves. It feels light, so it’s not the shelf. A little pressure sends it skidding across the backboard, rattling as it goes. It most certainly doesn’t want to let you get a grip on it, so you’re left to awkwardly shuffle forward on your stomach, pushing the object closer to the other end. Out of the corner and into the gap between shelves it goes, easier to see and easier to get a hold of, you find-

A spray can. It rattles as you move it, the little piece inside hitting the edges; a piece that has a name, probably. You don’t know it. You do know that the can use to contain primer, all used up the night you decided to try and borrow more from Hanasaki. That night…

Sitting back on your heels, you think about it- really think about it. Before, you’d never had the memories to tell you just how you’d ended up walking Hanasaki home, with all those bruises on his face. His eyes had been red and swollen, you recall. But it hadn’t been tears. It was paint. They’d sprayed paint in his eyes, and-

He’d set them on fire. Only a little, letting their cast-off cigarette burn the paint into a red hot maze that led straight into the bay. Or straight into him. It’s alarming to think, but they still could’ve headed right at him.

They weren’t messing about with paint cans, either. Those were knives.

This wasn’t even the first time he’d played with fire, either. The man at Burger World had  _ died _ , and it wasn’t exactly flame, but Inogashira- he never came back to school. Last you’d heard, his burns had been pretty severe.

Carefully, you put the can on the edge of the table, trying not to let it rattle. The sound makes you feel a little ill.

Are you doing the right thing? Shouldn’t you feel worse about the people you’ve hurt? Because people have been- and you know it now. Intimately, you can see the exact moment their expressions twist to horror, or pain. That guy was screaming as he led Anzu away and… you weren’t you until after they stopped. You’d had no idea, you told yourself. Assumed. Allowed yourself to believe, despite the glaring hole between seeing Anzu slapped and watching her pull the blindfold from her eyes. He was a bad guy, though. A murderer on the run from the law, already on death row.

Inogashira wasn’t. And he’d just let the other student there, walking home and slipping back into bed without a care in the world. You’d been upset about the carnival games, sure- upset that Anzu was upset. But did that make what happened right? Do you need to get to know him, to judge something like that?

You sit on the floor, not paying attention to anything. When the bell chimes in the shop, it breaks through those thoughts without giving you any sense of time, leaving you to shake your head and dust down your clothes in a rush, greeting your first customers of the day with a smile.

You don’t feel like smiling, though.

Anzu arrives near the end of the after school rush, waving, drifting away from the counter to examine the shelves. You appreciate that just as much as you appreciate her presence, needing all your attention for the till and the sometimes sneaky hands of less honest people. Glass cabinets should stop people from thinking they can walk out with a gift in their pocket, but some still want to try.

You’re not keen on any more reminders about what he does to thieves.

“Need help closing up?”

“Not too much; can you write a note to put on the door? Jou’ll have to come round the back.” She does so as you empty the till, tying the whole thing off with a little smiley face that’s half-obscured by blutack when you go to flip the welcome sign over. Upstairs, she lets out a loud, exaggerated sigh, slouching down at the dining table whilst you rush about, trying to be a good host. Tea, or juice? Do they have any cookies left, or did grandpa consume them all when he had the house to himself?

“I’m glad your mom let you have today off; Kaiba was all anyone wanted to talk about today.” Not one to sit on her opinions, you’re not surprised that this is the first thing out of her mouth. “People were asking about where you were- probably so they could talk about the duel. I told them you were at the hospital with your grandpa.”

“Thanks, Anzu.” She smiles as you sit, and you know the relief on your face is easily read. You’d have to face them all once the weekend was over, but a little breathing space was more than life had been willing to provide.

“Any time. Is your mom..?”

“She’s okay! Grandpa’s still pretty out of it, but she’s coming home tonight.” To a clean kitchen, you’re proud to say. “And I can see grandpa again tomorrow.”

“That’s awesome, Yuugi! You can say hello from all of us, too.” She smiles so sweetly that you couldn’t begin to say no, even if you wanted to. You know your cheeks have gone red when you say you will, and you know she notices. It’s the worst part of having been friends for so long.

You’re a little smitten, even as your relationship stays just the way it’s always been. The way you’d prefer it to stay. It’s been more than a little while since you noticed your crush- and more than a little while since you were sure that she’d taken notice, which just proved that it wasn’t meant to be.

Not that you aren’t hopeful, now and again. 

You let her keep the topic light until Jou arrives, and when the two of you let her in on your plan to help out in the shop, she’s the one who helps you work out a schedule that suits both of you. Snacks have to happen after that, because Jou’s ravenous stomach has yours beat by a mile, and then the three of you crowd into the lounge, flicking through the channels and laughing over the most inane of things. 

It’s a good afternoon of being- normal. You let yourself be preoccupied with normal things, Laughing at Jou’s miserable attempts to mimic TV personalities, allowing the two of them to school you in the latest Korean drama that’s gained popularity. You don’t watch enough television to get the appeal, but they seem happy enough, nagging each other over which of the main guys they think will get the girl. Even when you have nothing to say, it’s enough just to be there with them, basking in a sense of companionship that’s still terrifyingly, hopelessly new.

He’s helped you save both of them, several times over. Without him, either of them- both of them- would be dead.

You smile, but you stop paying attention as the light outside begins to dim, sky growing dark as the sun escapes to the other side of the world. A brief traffic report during a commercial break shows you what it’s like out there- another Friday night in Domino, where the freeways are busy and the CBD even more so. It’s not remotely the same sensation that you had last night, but it’s closer, distracting enough for Anzu to glance your way a few times, jerking her head to get Jou’s attention. You can see the looks they’re giving you, but it doesn’t really click that they’re concerned until he’s waving a hand in front of your face, stealing you back to Earth.

“Sorry, I’m listening.” What were they arguing about, again? “Jeong-wu sounds like a better boyfriend to me, but Anzu’s right; Min-jae is really mysterious…”

“Yuug’, that show ended like, half an hour ago.” Caught! Jou sniggers at the look on your face whilst Anzu shakes her head, hand over her mouth. You appreciate her attempts to spare you- but you know she wants to laugh. “Still thinkin’ about him, huh?”

“Mm, just- figuring it all out still. Sorry.” You straighten up, trying to prove you’re back in the zone, but Anzu leans forward, hand dropping to her side as her expression shifts into one you don’t recognize.

“Him? You mean..?” She glances at Jou, eyes shooting back to your face at his nod. If you had to pinpoint it at all, you’d say she looks...intense. Really focused. 

You understand her interest. Jou even turns the TV down for you, twisting round to give you all of his attention. In a way, it’s comforting to have them share in your curiosity.

“I decided it was better to give him pronouns- calling him the other me all the time gets...weird.” They both nod in understanding, and a still tense coil in your chest unfurls. Just like Jou, Anzu was going to accept all this, no problem. “I remember everything now- all of those black spots I told you about. All the- things he did to people.”

“People who hurt you.” Jou corrects bluntly. “People who did shitty things and got shitty consequences.”

“ _ Jou. _ ” Anzu hisses. “Language!”

“What? I’m right!” He groans at her judgemental stare, holding his hands up in defeat. “Alright, alright.  _ Bad  _ people. And they got what was comin’ to ‘em.”

The mutter under Anzu’s breath sounds suspiciously like ‘ _ men _ ’, sour look cast aside as she offers you an encouraging smile. You smile back, even if your words aren’t so confident.

“Part of me- a very big part, is really glad. He took care of you guys, right? I didn’t even know how many times I almost-” You breathe in slowly, moving on without finishing that thought. “But  _ how  _ he saved you is still pretty gruesome. I want to know- why? Why do all of that? What’s going through his mind? I feel like I just started putting together a puzzle, but I’m missing most of the pieces. I want to know what he is.”

No. That’s not quite right. You shake your head as you lean in, meeting their solemn expressions with a burning sense of earnestness. 

“I want to know  _ who  _ he is. If we’re sharing a body, we should be friends. Right?”

Jou just nods along in agreement, but Anzu seems dubious, lips pursing in thought. She doesn’t seem upset, just- not one hundred percent in agreement, you tell the twisting iron in your stomach. If she thought the suggestion was a bad idea, she would’ve said so.

“...Isn’t that assuming a little too much?” She asks carefully, and your stomach drops. “Sharing a body- is he really someone else?”

“I...I don’t know.” A reluctant admittance. You could lie about it, but you’re not good at being dishonest. Not with anyone. Especially not with the people who know you best. “Maybe. But I remember how it started, now. And I know he wasn’t here before I completed the puzzle-”

“The darkness puzzle.” Jou supplies helpfully, ignoring Anzu’s scathing glance.

“Right… kind of. So, somehow, the puzzle brought us together. It created him. Or had him inside of it?” You lift it for them to look over, eyeing it dubiously. That’s two more theories, but then- “Or… he  _ is _ it?”

“Okay.” Said with little conviction, but Anzu’s still thinking. “It could be any of those, I suppose… or none of them.”

She does seem troubled by it, fingers twisting in her lap before she shifts forward, gazing at you with that same intensity as before. Her words turn decisive, directing your attention and carrying that nagging edge it sometimes does when you’re being reminded of an upcoming test. 

“Until we know, I don’t think taking off the puzzle is a good idea.”

“Eh? Why’s that?” Jou’s tone echoes your own confusion, drawing the puzzle back to cradle against your chest. This is your treasure. Yeah, you take it off for PE, and it’s pretty easy to hang it on your bedpost when you go to sleep at night, but there hasn’t been a day since you completed it that you  _ haven’t  _ kept it close to you. It gets you some- odd attention, sometimes, sure-

Then again, you’re kind of surprised that a chunk of solid gold hasn’t gotten even more unsavory attention. One of your teachers should’ve commented on it by now, at best.

“Because if Yuugi’s right, and he comes from the puzzle, maybe he can’t help if you don’t have the puzzle with you.” The three of you fall quiet. If he came from the puzzle… and if he couldn’t help without it being with you-

There are so many times when you could have left it behind. Where leaving it behind was way more logical than lugging a giant pyramid of gold around your neck. The first day you’d brought it to school, you’d just put it on to show it off. After that, it just became a habit.

Shouldn’t you have questioned how safe it was to carry around, though?

Jou and Anzu have varying degrees of unease on their faces; a reflection of your feelings, though you’re pretty sure they’re not following your train of thought. You can practically see what’s playing out in their minds; all those times the other you stepped in. How badly they could have ended without him.

You open your mouth, ready to share the questions on your mind, but then…

Maybe not. 

The conversation ends with the arrival of your mom- leaping up off the couch, you’re glad for an excuse to shove your thoughts away, soaking in her warm embrace and her tired, but warm greeting to your friends. She praises you for your work in the kitchen, sitting down with near palpable relief; and when she suggests take out for tonight, she asks Anzu and Jou to stay before the question even comes into your head.

You’re glad when they say yes, you really are. Mom calls up for pizza as Jou finds a movie for you all, and you wait for a few minutes before quietly slipping out of the room, murmuring an excuse. Jou waves, but they’re all focused on the movie. 

You wait a few more moments to ensure that no one is missing you before slipping into your room, leaving the door open just the tiniest amount.

“Hospital bills are expensive,” You murmur to him, digging through your bag. In typical fashion, it’s right at the bottom of the main pocket, instead of where it should be. “And mom paid for dinner last night.”

In the end, you have to leap over the couch to get to the door before she can, but you pay, and she can’t insist on paying you back- not while Jou and Anzu are there. You carry the delicious smelling cargo into the kitchen, batting your lashes at her disapproving gaze, sticking your tongue out when she caves to similar antics.

You’re just glad you got to take care of her, even a little.

* * *

When you wake up in the morning, there’s a piece of paper stuck to the back of your door. You blink at it, not quite processing, until realization strikes and you’re rushing back to your desk, paper clutched tightly in one fist. And there it is- signs. Paperwork piled neatly to one side, the ruler and pen taken from your bag by the wardrobe; all things you didn’t do. And the paper itself- laying it flat on the desk, you’re not sure if your smile could get any bigger.

Meticulously drawn out on the top half, a nine by nine grid of dots is marred only by one, singular line.

Dots and boxes.

He made you a game of dots and boxes.

If your heart could sing, you're sure everyone in Domino would hear it. You say thank you aloud even if an answer isn't forthcoming, knowing that he'll hear you anyway. 

Which doesn't change everything. You've got more questions today than you ever had; a series of theories about who or what he is that haven't been answered. There's nothing else on the sheet- no hello, no explanation, and that's got to be deliberate to some extent. You check the wastebin beneath your desk just in case, but there's no crumpled up letters betraying nerves you're not all that sure he has. 

Just a game of dots and boxes. Because he's listening. 

Because he wants to play, too.

You give yourself a few more minutes to smile stupidly down at it, before rummaging about for a different colored pen.

  
  



	3. (Not) Trying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos and comments thus far! If you have the time and inclination, I am just as attention-seeking as the next author when it comes to reviews, I promise. Insert endearing emote of choice here.
> 
> Before reading this chapter, it would definitely be worth making sure you have a comfortable amount of familiarity with Duel 46 and 47 of the season 0 manga. You can find the full thing online pretty easily, otherwise, a couple of wikis have a pretty thorough summary of what transpires.

* * *

**Your seeking is your becoming and it comes with a consequence.**

**-Rabb Jyot**

* * *

Without a word, he’s become your secret confidant. 

Three weeks go by, and in that time, you keep talking. Before bed, in little moments on your own- you talk out loud about your day, how everyone’s doing, the things you like...everything and anything that comes to mind. He doesn’t answer, but it’s what you have- a little means of communication which makes you feel like the two of you are just that little bit closer.

What he does give you comes in lines of a game, readily taking his turn whenever the opportunity arises. For the most part, that opportunity comes when you’re sleeping. You’ve been going out of your way to be careful, avoiding situations that may have had you stumbling into trouble you couldn’t fix alone. Thankfully, your friends seem to agree.

Or maybe they’re just all as busy as you are. Jou keeps his promise, helping you with the game shop even when grandpa is released from the hospital. Anzu’s schedule is a little more erratic, but she makes just as much effort, whilst Honda does his best when he isn’t otherwise occupied.

He hasn’t said anything yet, but he’s spending an awful lot of time with Ribbon. It doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots. You’re happy for him. 

You’re happy for you, as well. For the first time in a long while, things seem to be settling down into some vein of normalcy. You keep up your rather average grades at school. You help at home the best you can, keeping a sharp eye on grandpa who, despite his grumbling, loses his energy much faster than he used to. With Jou following you home five days of the week, you’re not lacking for company, either- and mornings become so much brighter, all thanks to small lines on a page.

He’s very good at games. Very quickly, you become thankful for the vast amount of time you have to take your turns, fussing over each move you make in an almost obsessive fashion. At first, you’re worried that he’s taking it easy on you; there have already been a few indications of his strategy, seemingly random moves on his part slowly forming into a sequence of actions that could have cost you large sections of the playing field. You don’t always manage to catch him out in time, but you’re holding your own. 

Nothing pleases you more than the morning you wake up after capturing eight squares, only to find remnants of lightly drawn diagrams of the game thus far on the back of the paper. Looking them over, you can see every new move he’d deliberated about, none of them the same as the one he’d actually taken. It feels the first, real glimpse you’ve had of him, this conscious and deliberate care he extends to the silly game you’d wanted to play. In three weeks, your game of dots and boxes looks a little dog-eared, wrinkled and worn from all the time it’s spent living inside your pocket.

Jou and Anzu both agree that you two are taking this game  _ way  _ too seriously.

“S’still good tha’cher gettin’ to play, though.” Jou mumbles around a mouthful of rice cake, a sticky hand stretching out to ruffle your hair. You duck out of the way before it meets its target. “You know this means you can say hello though, yeah?”

“I’ve already said hello; we talk all the time.” He shakes his head at you- and a rice cake.

“ _ You talk.  _ Write him a note, get him to write back.  _ Talk  _ talk.”

“Well,  _ I  _ would prefer  _ you  _ stopped talking with your mouth full,” Anzu interjects, wrinkling her nose. Ignoring the even ruder gesture he makes at her, she opts instead to smile at you. “Besides, Yuugi doesn’t want their first talk to go like that.”

Your own smile is somewhat sheepish, partially hidden behind a cup of floral-scented tea. 

“Not really.” You agree. Setting the cup on the table, you note with absent-minded pride that it doesn’t taste too bad; you’re getting better at steeping it. Another month of improvement, maybe even grandpa won’t complain about your lack of attention to his precious cup of Jasmine.

“Not for nothin’, but what other options have you guys got? I mean, you’re both-” He gestures at all of you. “Right there, yanno? He’s not gonna walk in and shake your hand.”

“I know, Jou.” It's your turn to wrinkle your nose, lips pursing. “But I still think there’s another way. There has to be.”

“Such as..?” He trails off, slowly raising an eyebrow when your answer isn’t immediately forthcoming. Anzu looks equally as curious, though there’s a kinder disposition in how she looks at you, curiosity marred with concern as you feel your cheeks warming. And your ears.

Why is it always your ears?

“It’s nothing.” You mumble. Snatching the tray off the table, you silently apologize to your abandoned cup as you escape eye contact, shuffling over to the sink. You can hear the television in the living room, blaring the theme of the evening news as you start on the washing up. Dinner wouldn’t be for another hour, but there was nothing wrong with making sure everything was cleaned up before then. 

“That doesn’t sound like nothing.” 

“ _ Jounouchi. _ ” Anzu hisses. There’s a stifled yelp, drawing your gaze back to them for a moment. Your best friend is leaning forward in his seat, holding his side. Anzu takes that moment to sip innocently at her drink.

You only bite back your smile until your face is completely turned away from them.

“Okay,  _ Jesus.  _ You sharpen your elbow today, Mazaki?” 

“I knew I was hanging out with you, didn’t I?” 

Jou’s shout of annoyance is accompanied by the hasty scraping of chair legs against the floor; you’re not surprised when an arm flings itself over your shoulders, the taller man more than willing to put you in the middle of this.

“C’mon Yuug’; I won’t laugh. Tell me before Anzu’s elbow sends me to my grave.”

Anzu scoffs, glaring across the room. “You’re not worth going to jail for, Katsuya. Stop pressuring him.”

“Guys,  _ please. _ ” You laugh, vaguely uncomfortable. Play fights are how they show each other affection; understanding that doesn’t make it any less awkward to be stuck in the middle. “Just- promise you won’t laugh?”

“Buddy, there’s a whole other person in your noggin’. Who said anything about laughing?” Now he ruffles your hair, and you sigh at the impending hour you’ve just lost to taming it tonight. “If I were you, I'd be in the middle of my hundredth seance.”

“He’s another person, Jou, not Yuugi’s dead aunt.”

“He  _ could be  _ his dead aunt-”

“He’s not my dead aunt!” You cringe at the mere suggestion- and cringe harder at Jou’s wink.

“But he could be.”

“Do you want me to tell you or not?” He sighs, stepping back with one last tug of your hair. A piece of rice drops to the floor.

You’re trying hard not to consider where the rest of it went.

“Alright, not a dead aunt. Spill.” 

He looks to you expectantly- you can feel Anzu’s eyes on your back. She doesn’t push, but she’s interested. She’d be arguing a lot more if she wasn’t...not that you can blame her. In their shoes, would you be any different? Anyone else and this whole thing would feel like a game, a puzzle for you to put together. 

It still does; it’s just a little more personal. Turning, you slouch against the counter, eyeing them both warily. 

“Do you remember that guy at the museum?” Their reactions are immediate. Anzu’s sharp inhale pairs with the shift of Jou’s expression, eyes narrowed. Shadi had left an impression on them, just as stark as the one he left on you. 

Just as quickly, that piece of rice on the floor becomes very interesting. 

“Yeah. That guy. Before- all of that, I remember talking to him when I came to get my puzzle. He acted…” You hesitate. “Weird.”

“Oh yeah, cause that’s nothin’ like the creep I saw.” Jou mutters.

“Different kind of weird, Jou. He spoke with him- the other me. And then he was challenged to a game.” If you close your eyes, you can see it. Like a movie playing out. There’s a part of you that’s inclined to pass it off like all the other reels that now live in your head- the shared memories of every time he’d taken over, with everything that entailed. Except- “Except they weren’t in the museum. There was this  _ huge  _ maze, full of traps. The other me called it his ‘mind room’.”

They’re listening, not interrupting again. Feeling a little self-conscious, you shrug, pressing your hands together.

“He had this power he used to do it- that’s how he got you to stand on that board, Anzu. I don’t have that, but I figure if I could just… get my mind to that room, too…”

You grimace, wringing your hands together; Anzu finishes the thought for you. “Then you could speak with him face to face.” 

She’s got that look on her face, the one she gets when you talk about seeing him. Attentive and focused, it’s impossible to tell what she thinks of the idea. Before you can ask her, a small noise to the side has your head turning, cheeks burning with heat.

“You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“I’m not laughing.” Jou wheezes. You can see him sucking in his cheeks, trying to bite it all down as his shoulders tremble from the effort- with an exasperated groan, you toss a wet dishcloth at him. 

The conversation falls apart as you attack each other with dirty water and sodden dishcloths, Anzu’s voice raising as she tells you both to knock it off; and you do, eventually. When your mother comes in and yells at the two of you for making a mess of her kitchen.

Yo don’t mention it again for the rest of the evening. Jou doesn’t seem to care, leaving as cheerfully as he’d entered, but Anzu seems a little disappointed, lagging at the back door as Jou ducks around the front, threatening to leave her to walk home alone.

“I think it’s a good idea, Yuugi. Let me know if it works?”

“Of course.” And with that reassurance, she’s gone too, leaving you to finish cleaning up the kitchen under your mother’s eagle eyes. When you finally escape upstairs, you don’t have time for anything but a shower- there’s school tomorrow, and you’re almost certain you’ve forgotten about a piece of homework that’s due…

“If I’m lucky, I’ll remember in the morning.” Soft words as you get the shower running, encasing yourself in a tiny space of heat and soap scum. “And Anzu will help me during break.”

If you’re lucky. Sighing, you press your forehead to the cool tiles, letting the work of the day wash down the drain as you try to- relax. Clear your mind.

So you’ve attempted astral projection. Either Jou had come to that conclusion on his own, or he decided you were talking about something even more stupid; you’re just happy you didn’t have to say it. You were having a difficult enough time as is in quelling your embarrassment; every time you tried to look it up online, or trudged over to the local library to try and find a- a guide, a self-help book.

It wasn’t the subject. After months of watching people get punished by what you could only classify as some kind of wild, magical power inherited from an ancient Egyptian puzzle, you’re pretty sure you’ll never fully disbelieve anything ever again. It’s just… for every helpful piece of information you could find on  _ how _ something like this worked, ten more articles read like- like….

“Like baby’s first home-made spell. If I put some dirt in some mustard, I’ll totally ace my exams. Do you ever feel like that? Like something you’re doing is… like you’re trying to learn how to speak English, but the only guide you have is a really bad movie. You only understand bits and pieces, but you know the subtitles aren’t right.”

Three weeks of trying to look it up had ended in one of two ways; either you allowed your embarrassment to pull you away, excusing yourself with things you could be doing instead- homework, or helping grandpa in the shop- or you found yourself stuck with the sense that you were missing most of the important pieces, slapping a circle down on a square hole and wondering why it wouldn’t fit.

As frustrating as it is, you know you can get it if you try. You spent eight years putting together the puzzle; what're three weeks of trying to have an out of body experience, compared to that?

“...You know, about what Jou said- I hope it’s okay that I’m not writing you notes.” With every word, your lips brush against the wall, leaving a tingle of sensation that draws in your mind. If you could, you’d stand like this for hours, just talking. Feeling. “There’s so much I want to say to you; I hope that’s okay, too. Maybe we could write all of this out. If you want that, I won’t say no, other me.”

Your only answer is the sound of the shower, of course.

“But I don’t think I’d be happy without knowing there’s no other way. Everything feels so- important. I don’t want to just talk at you.”

You want to meet him. You want to look him in the eyes as you speak- watch his lips form around his answers. You want to hear his voice when he asks you questions in turn; have a real conversation without hours of thought in-between to mar your response into something near perfect. 

Everything else you have between you is shared with someone else; your friends have interacted with both of you, even if they weren’t always aware of the  _ both _ part of the deal. Even your game of dots and boxes is only a semi-private affair, something they know about, something your mother had questioned at the dining table, though you’d told her you were playing it with a friend from school.

There were things you wanted to say and hear that you didn’t want to share with anyone else. Even if a note between you was never meant for any eyes but yours, could you say that it would stay that way? All it would take was a moment of carelessness before someone picked it up from the classroom floor, or glanced over to find a curious piece of paper sitting against the till-

It’s not the only reason, you can’t hide that. You want to meet him; you want to look him in the eyes. Period. And even if you have to look up things that make you feel a little bit silly, you’d be happy if it amounted to a single second of seeing each other, face to face.

“Don’t worry, other me. I’ll figure it out.”

Until then, you’d content yourself with brighter mornings, all thanks to a line on a page.

* * *

You’re a pretty terrible swimmer, a fact that your grandpa is very fond of recalling. He’d been your first teacher, after all, back when you weren’t even half as tall as you are now, and a couple missing front teeth had your words carrying a distinct whistle to them. You hadn’t liked the water from the very start, the local swimming pool a vast unknown that you had little control over. Grandpa’s initial ideas on teaching you hadn’t helped, every tale of those young, watery adventures bring back flashes of unfavorable memories.

Grandpa liked to call you stubborn. You liked to argue that teaching someone to swim shouldn’t involve throwing them in the deep end before they’d learned how to float.

Still, you’d found a grudging piece with large bodies of water- mostly thanks to the vast number of games that could be played in them. Standing in the shallows, you cheer on Jou and Honda as the two surge across the pool, intent on getting to the colored ring you’d tossed out. 

Neither of them is the slightest bit afraid of bodily slamming the other out the way, and that’s why you’re the official ring tosser, not a collector.

“Ooh,” Even Anzu cringes when Jou leaps onto Honda’s back, slamming his head under the surface without so much as a warning. “That’s got to smart.”

“He’s okay- look,” You laugh as Jou follows him under, Honda’s arm hooked about his ankle. “They’re just getting started!”

“Sure they are- maybe they’ll even get the ring before school ends, this time.” She sounds skeptical, lounging back as you shake your head. Jou and Honda, letting each other win?

No way. They’ll keep at it until the teacher orders them out of the pool.

The rest of your classmates give the two of them a wide berth, but everyone’s having fun. You eye the game of water polo with slight longing, smile as a frisbee soars across the middle of the pool, and sigh at Ribbon’s perfectly executed dive from the high board. Everyone’s having fun on their terms; a perfect end to the school week.

It’s almost enough to make you forget the absence of something around your neck. 

The puzzle is the biggest, gaudiest object you could think to wear- it’s so noticeable that upon reflection, you were surprised at just how easily you’d gotten away with wearing it. Your school wasn’t the most formal about uniforms, but it was reasonably strict on accessories- you’d seen girls called out for having a cross on their neck, with chains thinner than your fingernail. No one even blinked at the puzzle.

It was a mystery you’d  _ had  _ to explore upon its discovery. No one said anything when you wore it under your shirt (except Jou, who said it looked stupid). You’d changed the rope to a silver chain to just as little fanfare. 

Then you tried wearing a wristband one morning. Within five minutes, it was back in your bag, the promise of detention waiting for you if you dared bring it to school again. And again, the puzzle was ignored.

For a giant pyramid of gold, it sure didn’t seem to call much attention to itself. If you had to explain it, you’d say it was magic. Like the puzzle wanted to stay with you just as much as you wanted to keep it.

It didn’t hurt you when you ran around with it on, either. It wasn’t heavy; most of the time, you managed to forget it was there yourself. Most PE lessons you didn’t even bother taking it off- no one commented on that at all, not even Jou.

Swimming was where you had to draw the line. There was no way you could dive in without smacking yourself in the face; even if it didn’t feel heavy, it was solid metal. Getting dragged to the bottom of the pool had the potential to revisit parts of your childhood you weren’t keen on touching base with, so off the puzzle went, sitting pretty on top of your uniform in the locker room.

That didn’t stop it’s absence from feeling weird, though.

For the dozenth time this past hour, your fingers worry across the side of your neck, seeking out that familiar chain. And for the dozenth time this past hour, all you find is bare skin. Anzu notices, of course; she clears her throat before you have a chance to let your hand drop, shaking her head at your mumbled apology.

“Don’t. I get it.” You ignore the quiet skeptic in the back of your mind in favor of a smile, huffing out a laugh as Jou shouts to you from across the water, waving the pool ring in the air. Seconds later, Honda’s tackling him back beneath the surface. “How’s it all going? Have you two been able to talk yet?”

“No… but I’m working on it.” You kick your legs out, watching them twist and warp in little lines of light beneath the surface. “It’s hard to figure out what to do, that’s all. I can’t just google  _ how to have an out of body experience in my own head _ .”

“Well, you could always ask him for some advice.” She points out, sinking down until the waterline meets her chin. “He’s never had any trouble letting you take control, right? So he must have some idea of how this works.”

“I could… but that would spoil it. I don’t want to waste our first conversation on that.” And maybe you feel like you have something to prove, not that you’ll say that. The knowing look she shoots your way speaks volumes.

“Just remember it’s an option, okay?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, lowering her voice. “When you figure it out, what do you want your first conversation to be like?”

“Well,” When, not if. Her absolute faith in you has a smile on your face, leaning closer to share in the conspiratorial mood. “That’s a secret. I know he can hear me- he might be listening, right now.”

“And that would spoil the surprise.” Anzu surmises, blue eyes alight with mirth. “Alright, you can keep your secrets; but promise you’ll tell me after you-”

A loud whistle drowns out the rest of her words, mister Hiromi directing everyone back to the locker rooms for clean up. Anzu sighs, mumbling something about pizza under her breath as she stands. You have a sneaking suspicion you know where her newest job is, which is all the more reason to keep Jou away from Dominos for the immediate future.

The two of you separate at the edge of the pool, heading off to your respective locker rooms. Jou and Honda still aren’t out of the pool yet; you hear the teacher yelling their names and shake your head, not bothering to wait. Sounds like they’ll be a while. 

It’s a good opportunity to steal a few minutes alone, more than ready to have the puzzle back around your neck, even if that means sacrificing your flattened hair to drying as it will- but the moment isn’t how you want it to be.

Because the puzzle isn’t where you left it.

Blinking rapidly does nothing to change this fact, your stomach plummeting as you lift your clothes out of the way- like there’s a chance the large, golden pyramid is hidden beneath the thin fabric. It’s not. Of course it’s not- it’s just  _ not here  _ and you don’t know how this could’ ve- why would it just-

A piece of paper falls to the ground, released from its place between the folds of your shirt. Later, you’re surprised you even managed to read it.

Then again, you’re surprised by a lot of things. You’re surprised that you manage to stay even the slightest bit calm. You’re surprised that you have the patience to change into your school uniform. You’re surprised that your voice is so even when you tell Jou to go ahead to the shop without you; you’ll catch up. Forgot something in class.

You’re surprised he doesn’t realize what’s missing. 

It’s not a surprise, but it’s not really calm, either. A blank wall of icy terror envelopes you, stifling your lungs before you can hyperventilate, burning your eyes before they can well up with tears. That weird sensation of loss you’d experienced since joining your class in the pool is multiplied, stealing any calm rationale and replacing it with one, single thought.

_ You have to get it back. You need to get your puzzle back. _

And the part that makes it scariest of all is how he doesn’t respond to your fears. There’s no tunneling of your vision as he wrests control from you, letting you take to the safety of the back seat whilst he fixes immediately fixes the problem, erases the issue. Violently ensures this source of distress never has a chance to make you feel this way again.

If Yuugi’s right, and he does come from the puzzle… oh, you should’ve taken Anzu more seriously. Who  _ cares  _ if the teachers don’t notice what you’re wearing; you never wanted to take it off anyway! 

There’s only one thing you can do, in the end.

You go to Room C. 

It’s empty; from the looks of things, the room is maintained but not in use this semester, walls bare of posters, a teacher's name missing from the top of the blackboard. Closing the sliding door behind you, the world seems to grow quiet; all the after school activities fading out into a distant background ambiance that barely permeates your mind, attention fixated on the only other person in the room.

“...Imori?” Didn’t he come into the shop last week? You’d been working on organizing the new stock with Jou, but you’d definitely seen him standing at the counter with your grandpa, waving his hands at some antiquated box and jar on the counter. The items rest on the table before him, tied together with ropes, coated with multiple pieces of omamori. Any other time, that would hold the most interest to you. 

Instead, your eyes sweep over it, coming to rest on the golden item draped across Imori’s hand.

“That’s my puzzle! Give it back!”

Imori looks up at you, smiling. That smile- since completing the puzzle, you’ve noticed more and more often, resting on the faces of those who’ve come to harm you in one way or another. The people who’ve hurt your friends.

The ones who always seem to meet a sticky end, all thanks to him. 

“Let’s play a game, Yuugi.”

Dragon cards, he explains, follows some fairly simple rules. The moment he tears the omamori you feel the darkness it contains seeping out into the room, trapping you into deciding the fate of both the puzzle and, if Imori can be trusted to tell the truth, the fate of the entire country. Six cards are drawn at the start- one discarded per round in order to attempt the creation of two dragons, ranging in level and element. A higher level of dragon wouldn’t ensure victory, as elements could vary their stats and change the final result.

It’s such a simple game, with such tremendously disastrous consequences. Any words you might have said get stuck on the roof of your mouth as you struggle to comprehend the extent of what Imori had just unleashed, all for a puzzle he didn’t understand- that _you _barely grasped in the vaguest sense of the word.

What choice do you have but to agree, to sit down and rest shaking hands over your lap? How could you begin to tell someone like this that of every bully you’ve ever faced, every bad person your other self had set to take down,  _ a kid your age  _ was the most dangerous of all?

The odds are stacked against you from the start. Imori lords his knowledge of the game over you, giving you nothing but the most basic outline of the rules with a sense restrained glee. He knows this game, whether he’s held the true cards in his hands or not- you feel a bead of sweat run down the back of your neck as you examine your hand, trying not to consider all the tactics he’s had time to perfect.

For a short while, the only sound between you is the soft clip of papers being set down and drawn. 

While struggling to create a winning hand with less than a minute's worth of explanation, you’d like to think Imori would have had more sense, if you’d just tried a little harder to persuade him. If you’d attempted to talk it out, instead of prioritizing throwing down the first combination of cards that comes to you, your classmate would have realized just how far his fears had pushed him. That his desire to wield something strong enough to push away the bullies and feel  _ accepted...  _ had turned him into the exact type of person he was attempting to run away from.

If you’d tried to talk to him, maybe you wouldn’t have lost. Maybe you could have helped him figure out what to do, you could’ve worked together to seal the cards away and make sure their terrible curse didn’t plague the world you love. You could’ve been friends if you just tried. 

The biggest problem you face that afternoon isn’t the loss of your puzzle. It’s not the loss of a game, or the tearing pain as your soul is pulled from your body into deep, searing darkness. It’s not the fear of unknown creatures screaming at you, the great wings that buffet your soul about your dark prison- not the terrifying agony of a great many things attempting to eat you alive, or the lack of any chance to escape. All of that is terrible; you’d go as far as to say it’s one of the worst experiences you’ve ever had.

But the worst thing is how you don’t even try to save Imori from himself.

Not even once.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Respect to anyone who noticed the other, rather old fanfic I referenced this chapter. As for the chapter itself, it’s not my favorite- I mostly wanted to get this out so I could start focusing on the next important scene, so apologies if it’s not fantastic.
> 
> Lastly, I realized I mcfucked up the timeline for the manga by mentioning the bomber last chapter, who comes after Death T. I’ve removed that little piece since this chapter skips a few things, including the...bomber. Oopsie doodles.


End file.
